


Dear Diary...

by charybdis_nerdrage



Series: Soul Searching [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, I did not plan this through, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The ending is trash apologies in advance, Tim makes new enemies, Tim makes new friends, Tim's diary starts as a major plotpoint, Timothy Starts a Diary, literally I'm just guessing and playing with characters, no Borderlands 3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 16:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charybdis_nerdrage/pseuds/charybdis_nerdrage
Summary: Timothy has been trapped in the Handsome Jackpot for... 7 years? He's almost lost count. All hope seems lost, the only thing keeping him stable is the recorded diary he talks to every night.But all that stops when he meets a vault hunter, who is attempting to break into his home and rob him blind.
Series: Soul Searching [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629115
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	1. Fixing an Echo

**Author's Note:**

> Haha I've never played Borderlands 3 and I've only seen small cut scenes from the Handsome Jackpot DLC. But fuck it! I need more content with this Tim, and by god I'm going to make it.
> 
> I desperately hope this seems kinda accurate, I hope it isn't frustrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: March 25th, 2020

The cold metal of the echo device was comforting in Timothy’s flesh hand, his synthetic hand working on reworking a few wires deep in the innards of the device. It was late in the cycle, but he could still hear the neon casino signs buzzing in the distance. Late at night was the best time to be around. It was when most of the crazed casino goers were hidden away in the corners of the huge space-bound casino. This made it easier to sneak around, turning unpredicted corners and hiding in Janitorial closets that had been long abandoned.

Handsome Jack had been dead for years, everyone knew that, Timothy knew that too. Once the man had taken that final bullet to the head however, he had failed to mention that his casino would be completely locked down in the process. Tim still shuttered at the thought of people clawing desperately at the locked doors, the doppelgangers all scurrying to scanners and shoving their winning hands in front of each other just to gain freedom. Some used their access to feed the poor stranded people now drowning in unpaid debts, others used their access to control the people around them. Tim had stayed behind, and he had watched them all be killed. Right now all he could do was drown in the loneliness, nothing but the distant buzz of neon and the ringing of casino game machines to occupy himself.

There was a tiny shock from the small red wires of the echo device that threw Tim back into focus.

Timothy had stolen an echo device from one of the crazed casino goers that had tried to attack him just recently. His old one was destroyed after one two many clumsy drops in his base, _ curse his trembling hands _ . He needed to get this new one fixed up. It wasn’t so that he could call for help. He had tried that many years ago. Any and all contact outside of the casino station had been blocked off, almost like there was a barrier around the station that kept him from getting the help he truly needed. The honest truth was that he needed a new echo so that he could continue his diary.

_ Wow, that’s a weird ass thing to admit,  _ the Jack part of his brain thought. Timothy shook his head, pushing the thoughts into the back corner of his brain along with the rest of the. Okay,  _ maybe  _ the diary thing was a little weird, but it wasn’t like he had anyone to talk to around here. He might as well talk to himself. It was comforting just to talk about what was going on, and he needed to stay mentally sane somehow. If half his brain was too stuck up not to off himself, he might as well give himself the company he desperately needed.

Timothy finally fixed the last of the loose wires into place, and with a smile, he slid the metal plate back onto the device, screwing it back in securely.  _ Now, for the moment of truth.  _ He pressed the old red power button carefully with his flesh hand, and the screen lit up. A grin spread over his face, he was proud of his good work. 

“There we go…” Timothy muttered to himself. “Atta’ boy.” It was finally on and working, the blue screen glowing in his hands. After all those years working under Jack and surviving under his gaze, he had of course picked up a few basic skills. He could fix something if he really did need to, and this echo wasn’t that badly broken.

He hauled himself up from the cold casino floor, clicking the echo to his belt. It was still late in the cycle, he needed sleep, and he hadn’t delivered on that promise to his body in a while. There was absolutely no point in extending the wait. With that, Timothy clipped the brand new echo to his beld, pulled out a low quality assault rifle, and started going back to his base. There, he would be safe.

At least he still wasn’t dead. That was definitely a good start.

-

Timothy arrived at his base after a long and painless run through the casino. It felt the same to be here, there was nothing different to it and definitely nothing new. It was just the same thing over and over again. Tim looked down at himself and let loose a heavy sigh.  _ He was filthy.  _ He would have been ashamed a few years ago, but now he was too indifferent to care. He slipped off his coat and tossed it a few feet away on the floor, and along with that he kicked off his boots and placed them aside. After removing a few straps, and his watch, he finally felt comfortable. He had taken a few layers off, now in his hoodie, his pants, and some old Hyperion branded socks he had stolen from one of the 20 Handsome Jack brand gift shops. He wouldn’t be dealing with the grime. There was no point in putting in the effort if he was bound to die here anyway. He went about his usual business, locking up the base to ensure his safety and making sure the lights were dim enough for his home to not be noticed by any passing locals. He needed to keep himself sane, which was surprisingly high on the list of needs. He got comfortable, leaning up against the wall of his own mindless paint drawings that covered the metal paneling. Tim pulled out the echo and turned it on, shaking it slightly when the screen flickered a little too much. He slit a cassette into the slot and anxiously hit record.

“Uh- Hi. Gosh I hope this thing works..” He spoke softly into the echo’s microphone. 

“So, this is Ja- Timothy.” He hastily corrected himself. “Wait shit, you already know that. This is my private diary.” He let out a soft strangled laugh, which tapered off into an anxious sigh.

“This is Timothy.” He repeated. “I don’t know why I keep messing that up. The jackass has been dead for like… 9 years? Yeah about that long. It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. I feel like he’s still breathing down my neck. I don’t think the amount of propaganda around this damn casino is helping that feeling.” The casino was rampant, you couldn’t walk 3 feet without being bombarded by statues, posters, videos, recording, holograms, mugs, or even whole bathrooms dedicated to the man.

His flesh hand reached up and touched the cracked surface of his synthetic mask, his cybernetic hand keeping hold of the echo device.

“Jack would kill me if he found out about the damage to the mask. He’d probably say something about it costing a lot, about how I’m irresponsible, about how he’d never mess up like I do. Nah, he’d definitely say something like that. Then he’d either airlock me or make all the other doubles watch him stomp my ribcage to dust, or something.” He chuckled sadly. “He’d hate it if he found out how damn dirty my clothes are, too. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking about it.”

Timothy let his emotions stir for a second in silence, then he cleared his throat again.

“My voice modulator still hurts, at this point I’d give anything for that shitty aspirin Jack gave us. Well, he gave it to the plastics… not the watches.” 

He remembered the damn categories. The thought still made his stomach churn.

Years ago, after only two doppelgangers were made with the magic of surgery and millions of dollars in the bank (one of which was him of course), Jack’s scientists had found out a way to make a doppelganger with only the digistruct pocket watch. Timothy had been in that meeting, too. He had watched that idiot from programming take on Jack’s image in a blink of an eye, and then as quickly as it had happened, changed back into his normal image. He had watched Jack smile proudly at the scientist. After that, Timothy’s kind was known as ‘the plastics’ in the microscopic doppelganger bubble. They were seen as old and needlessly expensive, even by Jack himself. It made Timothy feel sick.

“I can’t believe I had to throw my life away for Jack. Everything was gone. Mom even…” He let out a heavy sigh. “Mom laughed when she found out I was dead. Jack just patted my arm and said ‘Keep working, sadness looked ugly on my gorgeous mug.’ I can’t even legally use my name anymore. I had to let them destroy everything about the old me. If only I could have kept myself going for another year. Then they would have just tossed me the watch and I wouldn’t be stuck here. I wouldn’t be alone.”

The emotions felt bitter in his gut, spinning and creeping up through his body. He wasn’t about to cry on echo, was he?

“God- titty sprinkles-” Timothy swore. “I hate being alone… at this point I miss claptrap. Fucking claptrap!” He pulled his hair back, trying to tame the long brown locks into submission and distract himself from the sadness in his gut.

“I think I’ll stop recording before I cry. Jack told me I cry ugly.” Timothy then growled. “Shit! No! Jack doesn’t control me anymore. I can cry ugly… yeah.” He looked at the still-recording echo. Then he let out a sad, defeated sigh from deep in his gut.

“Never mind.” He stopped the recording and pulled up his hood. He didn’t need to cry.

He didn’t want to cry ugly. It made him scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on the vault hunters showing up to make things interesting, but I'm nervous. I might have to do some real research on the characters so I can get them down. So far I got the old drunk loser, ab lady, robo pokemon trainer, and army lesbian.
> 
> I feel like a chaotic bastard, I regret posting this at 3 am.
> 
> Just kidding, no I don't.


	2. Partially Eaten Food and Broken Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another pick-apart of Timothy's repressed feelings. Tim continues to set aside time to think about Moxxi, his old vault hunter friends, food, Jack, and the inevitability of his own sad death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!

The next day had been long, and the same as the others. He had wandered, killed some crazed tourists, and he managed to scrounge up enough cash to get himself some more ammo, especially his much needed shotgun shells. He had other weapons, but nothing had treated him as right as his trusty shotgun did. 

Timothy was absolutely exhausted, his pockets were heavier, plus he was hungry. He stepped into the familiar base with a frown, walking over to his cabinet of stolen food. He had made a small collection from his years of scavenging, most of what he bothered bringing home was stuff from the kitchens, the kind of food that would last decades without rotting. In short, nothing from the VIP lounges. He prepared a tiny meal for himself, one fit for a lonely scavenger with no hope. He looked around the base that he had lovingly named Casa De Timothy. The name never stuck. He did plan on using it if he ever had guests, and that was a very big if.  _ This is the best excuse for a home,  _ he thought to himself,  _ at least I’m not dead. _

Timothy reached down to the echo device still clipped to his belt. He had done the first diary entry yesterday, so maybe he should continue today? Not much else had happened, but he might as well talk about his feelings. He had a lot of feelings, and no where to put them. Plus the release had felt really nice the night previous.

With that, he pulled up a chair and sat down, food in one hand and echo in the other. He placed the food down on a large empty ammo container for the time being, and with his new free hand he clicked in another echo cassette, pressing record.

“So,” He started, the food back in his hand. “Today sucked ass, just like every other day.” He went silent, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed. “Then again, I think it’s been hard to keep myself happy for the past few years.” He looked down at his food. “At least I have food. Got that going for me.” He waved a lazy fist in mocking excitement. “Hooray for me.” He went silent again, finally scavenging for repressed feelings he hadn’t yet opened.

“I know there are a few people on this station that aren’t crazed… but none of them will trust a face like mine. I don’t blame them. Jack wasn’t the most trustworthy person, especially not the most mature.”

He fell silent yet again. He had abandoned the prospect of eating at this point.

“The worst memory I have of Jack is when he branded me with the mark of the vault.” Timothy winced at the thought of the subject. “Damn that hurt…”

He still remembered being pulled into Jack’s dark office. The man explained that he needed Timothy to be accurate, and this was only fair. Jack had told him to stay very still, pulling a metal brand out of his lavish fireplace. Timothy used to admire that thing, but not anymore. Even still, fire scared him. Some would call that stupid, but Timothy really did see heat a different way after he felt skin and flesh melt off his face, mixing with the blood and despair that pooled onto the floor. Jack had scolded him for letting it soak into his outfit. He was dragged out of his memories, and he reminded himself he couldn’t remain silent for the entire recording.

“I understand how much insecurity and trauma came from that experience, but that never made Jack a good person. It didn’t give him the right to hurt me in the same way.” He said, and he believed what he said. “Once that happened, the job stopped being fun. I mean it wasn’t fun in the first place, but at least I was free. I had money. After he branded me, it started feeling more like a dead weight I could never shake off.”

“I was back to being in debt all over again. It felt like when I was in college.” Timothy continued. He still couldn’t remember why he even went. No one needed that kind of thing around here, unless that someone had big dreams. Timothy’s dreams were never big. He wanted to write a book, yeah, but he didn’t need a degree for that.

Then thoughts of his fellow vault hunters from all those years ago swam through his mind. “I wonder if Athena is still around… did Nisha make it? Did Wilhelm even survive?” He placed his partially eaten food back down. He had abandoned it a while ago. “Am I the last one? Does the last one have to be trapped here, all alone? Is that my fate?” He looked down at his echo, a finger tracing the metal sides. “I wonder what Springs would say if she found me like this. Would she forgive me for everything?” 

Timothy didn’t know why he kept asking questions he couldn’t answer. He knew no one would answer these questions, as far as he knew he would die here. No one would come to his funeral, there wouldn’t even be a funeral, just people selling off bits of him for thousands until there was nothing left but an empty future. He wouldn’t ever get a second date with Moxxi, even though she probably just went out with him because she thought he was Jack.

“Moxxi, she’d probably blow my brains out before even asking why I’m here, if she even remembers me.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Holy shit, I am hopeless aren’t I? I guess Jack was right. Maybe I am just another cog in his machine. Just another foolish expense.”

And with that, Timothy stopped recording and popped out the cassette with a distantly satisfying click. He got up and walked to a small box on a shelf. He had found the thing in some salvage, and decided to keep his diary entries in here, organized by date.

He scribbled the date onto the front, carefully, then laid it next to the entry from the previous day.

“There we go, all organized.” He said, shutting the box. “No one can get into this thing.” Timothy than placed it back on its shelf, letting loose a sigh. He was absolutely exhausted. He needed sleep. The doppelganger looked over at his half-eaten food, he should finish that.

But he wasn’t that hungry. He decided to just sleep. He’d deal with food in the morning, at least he had something small still in his system. He wasn’t going to sleep on an empty stomach tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I decided to make this whole story not fully based on canon, just because I'm dying and I've never done that before with a fic. Let's see how that goes haha
> 
> Also I have a tumblr now! I have no idea how the hell to put the link in notes, but if you guys want to see that just search 'charybdis-nerdrage' on tumblr. No clue how this works, no clue how tumblr works, please bare with me.


	3. Confessing to the Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy has been entering into his diary for many days now. It's a good alternative to talking to a person, as the double knows he'll never get a chance like that ever again. 
> 
> Unless...?

Timothy had continued his usual schedule for the next few days, wandering, killing attackers, scavenging for food and old trinkets he’d probably never need, then coming home and recording a diary entry. They had become a real part of his life, those entries, they made him feel listened to, or at least the closest possible feeling to being listened to. He knew for a fact he wouldn’t have anyone to actually talk to ever again (not like he had anyone before the surgery either).

The journey home was a very familiar one, he wove through the casino, moving in the same twists and turns to throw possible followers off his trail. He adopted a lot of things from playing the Jack game for so long, and one of those key things was paranoia. Truthfully, his paranoia was nothing like Handsome Jack’s, who slept with a gun under his pillow and shielded turrets outside his bedroom door, but it had still been developed.

Timothy was finally reaching the last bits of the familiar trek, and he finally stepped into his home, but froze, he could feel the blood leave his face under the mask. Someone was in here. He could hear the scuffling. Someone was digging through his stuff, his hiding place had been found. He’d either die, or live and have to move as soon as possible.

His breathing was anything but steady, a hand reaching for the familiar gun on his hip. 

“Hey!” Timothy called out, his voice coming out much shakier than intended. The scuffle stopped, the heavy cock of a loaded gun replacing it. “Hey hey woah-” He ducked down, narrowly avoiding the barrage of corrosive bullets. It looked like heavy firepower… 

“Get back ya bloody psychopath!” The intruder yelled, letting out another rain of corrosive bullets towards Timothy, who ducked out of the way.

“I’m not Jack! Just-- Just calm down!” Timothy yelled. “I promise I’m  _ not  _ Jack!”

“That’s exactly what the  _ real _ Jack would say!” The stranger was still yelling, but the bullets had stopped for the time being.

“Argh, dammit you're not wrong. But I promise I’m not Jack! Not at all.” Timothy reassured, standing up and stepping closer to the intruder. The stranger seemed somewhat calm, but his gun was still raised.

“I’m not puttin’ the gun down.” The stranger growled, just before Tim was going to ask the next question. “Now why the hell are you up and livin’? Did the last ones not shoot ya right?” 

Timothy shifted awkwardly. “Well,” he started. “I’m the last of Jack’s doppelgangers. Basically I got paid to look and talk exactly like Jack. That uh… didn’t end up going too well.”

“Okay…” He nodded slightly, the gun moving out of his hands and into its holster. “I can’t trust ya, but the fact that ya haven’t shot me yet is a plus.”

“Cool, cool…” Timothy sighed and looked around the room. “Did you get into my food?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh come on that stuff it hard to get.” Timothy complained. “Did you go through anything else?”

“Yeah, I swiped a lot of cash. Also I got this box--”

“Put the box back!” Timothy sputtered, his muscles tensing up. He knew what box this guy was talking about, it was the one that held his diary entries. He wasn’t losing those, not on his watch. He took a long deep breath and stepped closer to the intruder. “Okay okay, you know who I am… but I have no goddamn clue who you are,  _ and _ you’re stealing my stuff.”

“Awe right.” The stranger cracked a smile, much more relaxed in this situation than Tim was. “I’m Zane, Zane Flynt. Now stop lookin’ so damn tense and help me look for something. You look like ya know your way around a shitehole like this.”

Timothy was taken aback slightly, not totally even sure how this man got here. “Can I ask a question?” Tim feebly asked. Zane nodded in response. “Cool, cool. Uh, why are you even here? I’ve been here for like 7 years and I have never seen you anywhere in this damn casino.”

“Moxxi wanted-” 

“Wait Moxxi sent you?” Timothy stiffened at the thought. Shit, would he be able to talk to Moxxi again? Why was she even interested in the casino? He felt his face burning underneath the mask.

“Yeah, anyway-” Zane cleared his throat to announce something. “Me and some vault hunters were sent to take over the casino, Moxxi really wants it to spite that dead bastard. I’m getting paid a very pretty penny.” He smiled slightly at the thought.

“Is Moxxi… here?” Timothy mumbled hopefully.

“Nahh” Zane shook his head with a shrug. “Had better things to do I guess.” Timothy gulped and nodded stepping farther into his home, testing the waters. He wanted to know what terms they were on at this point. Zane noticed and laughed. “Not gonna shoot you, boyo. Not right now.”

“Very… reassuring.” Timothy chuckled, still on edge. Zane gave him another smile and walked to Timothy’s shelf. He didn’t put the cash back, of course, Tim did the same in his vault hunting days, and Zane had mentioned something about vault hunters. Zane did return the diary entry box to its proper place on the shelf, just like he was asked. Tim was thankful, he didn’t feel like losing multiple days of feelings to a supposed vault hunter he barely knew, who knows where they would end up?

“So,” Zane said pointedly, plopping down in a chair with his legs crossed. He leaned back and looked at Tim. “Got any drinks?”

“No, not at all. I uh… don’t drink.” Timothy confessed. Zane’s brow rose in surprise.

“Never thought I’d here that anywhere on the border planets,” Zane implored. “Let alone a  _ casino. _ ” Timothy rolled his eyes in response, he sat down on top of a container across from Zane.

“It’s really complicated.” Tim dismissed. That was the kind of confession only his diary would hear.

“Ah come on, I’m a good listener!” Zane insisted. “I’ve done a lot of fucked up shite, just try me.” Tim looked at Zane hesitantly.

“Five minutes ago you wanted to shoot me.”

“Uh yeah, ya look like Handsome Jack, of course I’m gonna shoot ya.” 

“Well I know that.” Tim assured. “8 hours of surgery  _ and _ 12 legal documents doesn’t just slip your mind.” Zane smirked, amused by Tim’s smartass comment.

“Well ya know what I mean,” He continued. “You have a very shootable face.”

“I’ve been told.” Tim chuckled at that. Zane was easy to talk to when he wasn’t actively trying to kill you, or maybe Tim just hadn’t had anyone to talk to in years. It was most likely both. “You really wanna hear about my dumb feelings?” Tim asked politely. Zane just shrugged.

“Got nothin’ better to do.” He answered.

“Well,” Tim began. “When I worked under Jack as, uh, well as Jack, I was kept on a really extreme schedule. It got worse the more he rose to power. Mandatory exercise routines, diets, especially drinking guidelines.” Tim didn’t totally know why he was admitting all this to a completely stranger he absolutely could not trust. But he decided to go with it, he was already in too deep. “All I was allowed to have was really goddamn expensive scotch. After a couple years of that, I kinda got sick of drinking. Too many guidelines to follow. Too much stress attached, it defeated the purpose.”

Zane nodded to reassure that he had been listening, and he had. It made Tim feel much nicer than he ever did talking to his echo.

“I’m real sorry, because drinks are a goddamn blessing and I pity ya.” Zane admitted. “Trust me, when we get out of here I’m taking you to drink fuckin’ everything. I’ll show you the good shite.” 

Tim couldn’t help but smile at the notion, it had been an embarrassingly long time since he had a friend. Even then, a stranger that robbed him was a pretty sorry excuse for one.

“You said you had other friends here?” Tim asked.

“Yeah, just a few.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Fl4k, Amara, and Moze. Lovely people, they like a good fight as much as I do.”

“Do you think they’d shoot me on sight?” Tim inquired.

“ _ Yep. _ ” Zane confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this took forever to write. I'm not remotely confident about how I wrote Zane, but fuck it. It's out here now for you to read because I am determined to finish this thing.
> 
> Please enjoy, and comment if you want. I like reading the comments, and I love talking to people on here. Everyone is nice and has a lot to say, which is super cool.
> 
> My new tumblr is going okay, I'm on it a lot if y'all are curious. I still don't know how to put links in the notes, but I'll figure it out eventually.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Definitely not scared of the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zane decides to meet with the other vault hunters again, and insists to bring Tim along with him. They receive a... less than warm welcome.

Zane had ended up spending the night, snoring loudly with a flask still in the hand pressed against his chest. The man had a strong taste for booze. It made Tim uncomfortable, but he already knew no one cared about his preferences around here. A vault hunter especially wouldn't care. Tim didn't sleep that whole night, just nervously throwing glances at the snoring vault hunter. He couldn't tell if it was the snoring that kept him up, or his deep-set paranoia.

Part of the feeling was nostalgic for Tim, it made him look back at those uncomfortable nights on Elpis. Him and the vault hunters would sleep on the floor of an old, oxygen filled scav den, normally surrounded by bodies. Those nights were sleepless, not to mention he had to sleep in between Nisha and Wilhelm, two of the scariest people he's ever met, Athena came in third at the time, but after Handsome Jack rose to power, he became the scariest. He beat Nisha in that regard, at least in his eyes.

Granted, his eyes were scared of most rational things, like his murderous boss, and the scary muscular woman with an electric whip and a trigger finger.

Zane didn't fall on his fear list, truthfully, he hadn't had a conversation that productive in years. It wasn't because Zane was old, no that couldn't be it. He probably had years more experience than Tim, maybe even Jack (murder-wise, not business-wise). Tim only ever killed when he absolutely had to, and situations that called for that type of action included: people trying to kill him, and spiders. 

When the day cycle started and Zane woke up, Timothy had only finally started nodding off to sleep. It was a little too late for that, as Zane was already up, stuffing a bag full of food and Tim’s spare cash.

“Alright boyo, we’re gonna go meet the others, wherever they are.” Zane instructed, tossing an empty bag in Tim’s direction. It was one of Tim’s old bags, the ones he stole from the janitor’s closet when the lockdown happened all those years ago. Zane really had torn his place apart before Tim arrived, he would have been robbed blind if he arrived any later.

“Wait--” Tim sputtered. “Wait who are we meeting with?”

“The other vault hunters? I told ya yesterday, keep up. Get your stuff in the bag, I highly doubt you’re coming back here.” Zane mentioned. Tim’s eyes widened at that.

“I’m gonna die??” The double stammered, his muscles stiffening. Was Zane gonna take him out? Were the vault hunters gonna kill him?? His train of panicked thought was stopped short by Zane giving him a weird look.

“Wha-- No!” He affirmed. “I mean by the time you wander off, we’ll have Jack’s tower. I doubt you wanna come back here.”

Tim’s heart slowed to a reasonable speed at that, but his nerves were still higher than they should be. Zane gave him a look, slightly pitiful, if that was even possible.

“I got booze, if that’ll calm you down.” Zane offered.

  
“I- no. No it’s fine.” Tim affirmed, turning away from Zane and starting to stuff the last of his things into the bag. 

The packing wasn’t that silent, Zane making relaxed comments from a chair while Tim mulled over his thoughts, only half listening to the vault hunter. He ended up packing ammo, food, and his old pocket watch. Then he remembered the diary. Should he take that along with him? He might as well, even though his daily entries would be cut short by the sudden new company (or his death). He eventually thought  _ fuck it _ , and stuffed the echo cassettes into his bag after opening the box. Zane looked over at him curiously, but he thankfully didn’t say anything.

-

The journey had been strange, most of the time Zane had been talking confidently into an echo, and Tim had only heard bits and pieces. The person on the other end sounded male, but robotic and calm. Tim wondered if he’d ever meet this mystery person, and also if he’d come out of it alive. The more rational side of Tim was convinced he was literally being escorted to a bloody death. Surprisingly they hadn’t been in too many encounters on the trip, Zane was weaving skillfully through the pristine casino halls as if he had been there for years, Tim was definitely impressed.

The two continued traveling together, and after a while they reached the corners of the casino where the neon lights shined the dimmest. The hallway in front of them was almost completely black, except a very dim pink neon light over a doorway. The silence echoing from the space made a shiver go down the double's back. Timothy recognized the place, he normally stayed out of here,  _ definitely  _ not because he was terrified of the dark. He gave Zane a concerned look, but the other man didn’t look back. He was too busy looking around in the corners. 

“Zane this place doesn’t look safe..” Timothy fretted, pulling up his hood self-consciously to protect his face from the eyes of possible onlookers. Zane looked up from his echo and back at Tim.

“Oh stop worryin’, Flak said the group was around here.” Zane affirmed. It didn’t help much with the unease Timothy was feeling, granted, nothing ever did. Even when he was in college.

“And you trust him?” Timothy frowned.

“ _ Them, _ and definitely.” Zane smiled at Tim, hoping to calm him. Timothy just nodded. He wasn't going to disagree with Zane, he was already in too deep to turn back.

“Alright, I’m trusting you… not super sure why.” Tim mumbled. Zane just shrugged and kept on walking, his eyes scanning every corner of his surroundings. Timothy let out a soft sigh as he followed, attempting to release the tension in his core. The darkness wasn't helping, his and Zane's footsteps making faint noises as they walked through the hallway. Timothy didn't remember what was down here, but he definitely remember it never being that interesting. Tim's thoughts were put a halt when Zane suddenly stopped, Timothy almost ran into him because of the darkness.

“Found ‘em!” Zane announced, ducking under a partially opened, and crooked door just a few feet away. The door itself had been jammed who knows how long ago, leading to an old empty storage room. Who knows what would even be in there anymore, all scraped away by time and the greedy hands of the people trapped in the casino's clutches. Timothy hesitated before following Zane, nervous it would be a trap.

“Goddamnit..” Timothy cursed. He had to man up. So he did, he covered the majority of his face with the hood and a free hand, then ducked under the door after Zane.

The moment he walked in, he was nearly hit by an empty metal Hyperion ammo case sliding across the floor, directly towards him. He yelped and scrambled out of the way, letting the large box stop in front of the door opening to block trespassers. Timothy looked up and made eye contact with the woman that had kicked the barrel at him.

_ Oh my god she was terrifying.  _ She easily beat out Nisha in the list of people he wanted to avoid at all costs, running a close second to Handsome Jack.

“Who the hell are you?” She barked.

“Come on Amara calm the hell down he’s a friend!” Zane said. “Look at the kid, he’s trembling in his damn boots,” his friend gestured towards Tim. Tim could neither confirm nor deny if he was  _ actually _ shaking in his boots.

The woman, apparently named Amara, gave Zane a dirty scowl. 

“You brought  _ Handsome Jack  _ into our camp!” she cursed.

“Nah I brought his body double! One of the old ones with the faces! Ya know?” Zane smiled, slightly nervous. “Please don’t blow his brains out just yet, at least wait till he betrays us.”

Amara glared at him, but backed down to Tim’s relief. She didn’t say another word, moving away and leaning against a wall, her arms crossed. The woman, no- the siren, had enough muscles to probably kill him with a punch to the face, and the heavy, hate-filled glare she gave him was only helping the narrative.

The double looked at Zane, who held out a hand to help him up. Timothy took it and was heaved up with the help of his new friend. The double stood awkwardly, feeling new sets of eyes on him. He cleared his throat and waved nervously at the others in the room.

"I pity your situation, having the face and body of a douche bag does not sound pleasant." A familiar voice droned. It must be Flak. Tim looked at the robot and nodded.

"Uh yeah, tell me about it." Tim confirmed.

"Why are you here? Did our fellow vault hunter capture you?" Flak asked.

"No no, nothing like that. He actually broke into my camp and robbed me." Tim explained. "Then he sat down and we just talked, he's really easy to talk to... He offered to get me out of here, so I agreed and here I am."

Flak nodded. "Interesting..."

"I guess." Tim sighed.

-

The vault hunters were surprisingly kind, much nicer than the ones he worked with all those years ago. The meanest was probably Amara, but Tim understood why. He knew how hard it was to trust a man that signed his entire life away in the name of Handsome Jack, those kinds of people were either nutcases, or just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tim would know.

Tim and Flak had become friends after the short period of time, and the robot had introduce him to their Skag, Mr.Chew. Timothy had never been a dog person, his bias always fell over to cats, but Mr.Chew was an absolute delight. He was a cuddler, if that was even possible for skags, and the animal had curled up on Tim's lap after a while of petting. Flak had an amazing connection with animals, and they were the most open to being close with Timothy. Tim hadn't felt that kind of caring in such a long time. Zane and Amara however, had been arguing over Tim for ages. But the two had somehow stopped arguing after a heavy kick was heard from the other side of the broken door, directed at the heavy box. Amara huffed.

"Moze?" Amara asked, both hands on the box in preparation to move it.

"Copy that, muscles." Moze answered from behind the door. Amara moved the box and the woman ducked into the room. She was shorter than everyone else in the room, but still intimidating in her own way. She looked _extremely_ military. Tim quickly realized she was staring at him.

"Oh uh-" Tim began, but he was cut off by the sound of sudden, very heavy gunfire. Tim tensed and shut his eyes tight, covering his face with his arms and bracing himself for pain... but it never came. He dared to open his eyes, and the gunfire had stopped. Zane was in front of him, a large shield projected in front of him and Tim.

_Holy shit. __Zane protected him._ His head spun at the thought.

"He's not Jack, Moze, please calm down." Spoke Flak in concern. "This is Timothy, he's a doppelganger, and he just wants to be free of this place."

"Yeah! What Flak said!" Zane agreed. "And ya can't just go off spraying gunfire at the first double ya see!" Timothy blinked in disbelief, but he didn't point out the irony of Zane's instructions. He was still on the part where Zane and Flak protected him like actual friends.

Before he knew it, Moze had calmed down, joining Amara in the corner. She gave him dangerous glares as well, but it wasn't as intimidating as Amara's. Tim looked away from them and looked at Zane. He wanted to thank him, somehow. He wanted to thank him for saving him, for being the first one to actively protect him in so damn long, but the words wouldn't leave him. 

Maybe he would thank him another day.

He couldn't really think how he could right now.

He needed time to remember how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh writing the vault hunters is hard because I'm bad at it and I don't want any BL3 spoilers. I'm determined to get at least somewhat far into this fic though, if it's the last thing I do.
> 
> This chapter ended up being longer than I usually make it, nearly twice as long as average. I'm not proud of that actual writing, but the size is always nice.
> 
> My tumblr is @charybdis-nerdrage if you're curious. I still haven't gotten links to work here, so that's the best I can do.


	5. Complicated Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy has a dream, an awful one, but for the first time, someone is there to comfort him after he wakes up.

Timothy felt trapped, and that had nothing to do with the eyes glaring into the back of his head while he laid on the floor, facing the wall. The night cycle had started a while ago, and Amara was the last one sitting up. Tim assumed it was for guarding the camp, but really he knew it had everything to do with protecting the group from him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to the sensation of being watched, hell, Jack had been his previous boss. The feeling just made it hard to doze off. Flak was on the ground, laid down with Mr.Chew fast asleep in their padded arms. The robot didn’t sleep, Tim knew that, but they felt the need to help the skag sleep, and that was just precious. Zane was asleep as well, snoring loudly and leaned up against a wall just a few feet from Tim. The double got used to the heavy snoring, but didn’t know how the man slept while sitting up.

Moze was asleep, propped up with an old Hyperion storage box right next to Amara. Tim hadn’t gotten to know Moze that wall, the best thing he could assume from her is that she was possibly a Vladof soldier. 

Tim let loose a heavy sigh. He needed sleep, or he wouldn’t be able to aim straight the next morning. He was already exhausted from barely getting any sleep the night previous, another sleepless night wouldn’t help. He scooted his body a little closer to the wall, shut his eyes, and let himself drift to sleep.

-

Tim’s consciousness wove in and out of the dream scape, then back into the familiar nothingness. He forgot about everything, about Amara’s glare, about Zane’s protection, about Flak, everything went away. He felt at ease in the comfort of sleep. It was a wonderful change from that familiar feeling of unease. That is until it came back.

He opened his eyes, welcomed to a new location. It was Jack’s office. How he had gotten here, he didn’t know, he just knew that he was terrified. He looked down at himself, his flesh hand shaking with fear. 

There he was, Jack himself. The terrifying man scanned Tim with cold, dangerous eyes. 

“Hey, me.” He spoke, the ice cold words sending terrified shivers down Timothy’s spine. “We need to talk, don’t we? It’s been a while. And I personally think we need a  _ long  _ talk.” Jack pressed a palm against the desk across from Timothy, sliding a filled out contract across the smooth surface, facing Tim.

“... What do you need, sir?” Timothy faltered, looking down at the contract and back up at Jack.

“You see this, dum dum?” Jack boasted, a smug smirk forming over his face. “You might recognize the handwriting.” he divulged, leaning in to trace his pointer finger around the signed name at the bottom. Timothy J Lawrence. Tim didn’t even remember he had a middle name.

“... that’s my name, yes sir.” Tim weakly concurred. 

“Ding ding ding!” Jack bellowed. “You got it right! You know, this little contract says that under no circumstances will you ever disclose your real name until the 20 year period is over. I’m afraid you still got a couple years, but look at you! Going by Timmy with everyone, huh?” Tim stiffened, looking up at his counterpart with fear in his eyes. Jack noticed this detail, starting to laugh. “Still a weak little bitch, huh.” He reached over and patted Tim’s shoulder a little too hard.

“I guess, sir, yes.” Tim nodded slightly. He had learned years ago not to argue with Jack, no matter what he said.

“So agreeable.” Jack affirmed. “Looks like you’ve got a little damage to the cargo too.” He gestured to the large crack on Tim’s artificial left cheek. “Oh that’s not even all, is it, you still got a ton of damage to the edges. I might’ve sued you for all you’re worth, but hey, I’m a charitable guy, and I know you aren’t worth much.” Jack boasted. 

Tim frowned but nodded. “Yes sir, not as much as you.” Jack smiled at him.

“That’s the spirit, champ!” Jack mockingly cheered. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” And with that, Jack pulled his favorite pistol from his holster and pointed it at Tim from the other side of the desk. 

_ Bang.  _

And Tim woke up.

-

Tim flinched and sprung up in a cold sweat, looking around frantically for the source of the gunshot. It never showed itself, seeming to be a figment of Tim’s twisted imagination. His breath was heavy, he felt unsafe, uneasy. He looked around to see if anyone was up. Everyone was asleep, even Amara, who was on the floor leaned against Moze. Tim would note how cute they were, if adrenaline wasn’t pumping through him at the speed of a skag pup on drugs. Tim sunk back against the wall, trying to comfort himself. That is, until he felt movement beside him. The double looked over and saw Flak hauling themselves up to sit next to Tim.

“Are you alright?” Flak asked, his monotone voice strangely comforting. Tim shook his head no at the question, and Flak acknowledged it. “Would you like to talk about it? Human emotions are strange, but should never be ignored.”

“I uh,” Tim looked up at Flak. “Yes please. I’d like that.” Flak nodded and got to their feet, holding out a gloved hand for Tim to take. The double obliged, taking the hand and getting up with the help of Flak.

Flak moved the box blocking the exit, and the two stepped out of the camp. Normally Tim would feel frightened, but with Flak next to him, he felt protected. It was the first time he’d ever felt truly comforted in god knows how long. Flak’s eye shown green in the dark while they walked down the hallway. They didn’t end up going far, just a little ways from the camp so that they wouldn’t wake anyone up with talking. Tim sat down against the wall, and Flak sat down next to him.

“I had a nightmare.” Tim began.

“I’ve heard stories about those, they do not sound pleasant.” Flak said,

“You said it.” Tim sighed heavily. “It was about Jack, contracts, the works. All that fear of not being good enough.” Flak nodded as Tim talked. The robot was a good listener, much better than Zane was. 

“Trauma is not a productive thing to deal with, it is tedious as far as I have seen. I can assume what you have gone through must have been quite difficult.” Flak surmised.

“I guess I’ve gone through some trauma,” Tim agreed. “Jack just always expected so much of me. It was terrifying. I don’t think being trapped in this casino is helping.” He mentioned, bringing his legs close to hug them. His surroundings were very dark, but the company made the blackness comforting.

“Humans process trauma in very interesting ways. I’d assume that if your trauma has something, or everything to do with Handsome Jack, the amount of propaganda around every corner must act as a painful reminder.” Flak continued. “It must be difficult to act outside of how you were taught to for so long.”

Tim looked over at Flak in awe, he nodded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah it is. Wow you are really good at this-” Tim said with a soft chuckle.

“I have a lot of time to observe. Most everyone I work with had dealt with trauma, either the loss of a loved one, abandonment, or real loneliness. How the human brain processes that is extremely interesting to me.” 

“Do you think I’ll be okay…?” Tim asked, truthfully. He didn’t feel okay, not ever. 

“Yes.” Flak said. “When you leave this prison, you will be free. Free to do as you please, after a while without limits, soon you will build yourself, find people to trust.” They explained. “At least, that’s what I think will happen.”

Tim nodded at the final statement. “Thanks Flak. I really, really needed this.” He sighed.

“You’re welcome, it is the least I can do for a friend.” Flak assured, starting to stand up. “If you have another nightmare, just know that I don’t ever sleep. I’m willing to listen to you. Whenever you wish.” Tim nodded again to show his thanks, this time getting up on his own. 

The two walked back to camp, and not long after they got back, Timothy was fast asleep again, Mr.Chew by his side to comfort him. The skag was a cuddler, and Tim was grateful for that.

He hadn’t slept that peacefully in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once, I'm at least a little bit proud of this chapter.
> 
> I don't think this fic is about Tim's diary anymore, it's just about Tim's feelings. I'll update the story summary soon. Also Flak is probably my favorite to write, and I apologize if I get their pronouns incorrect a few times. I'm surprisingly bad at using They/Them pronouns, just be patient with me. 
> 
> My tumblr is @charybdis-nerdrage, if y'all are curious. (links are too complicated to get working.)


	6. Too Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy and the group need to go to Jack's tower, and the only thing that seems to be standing in the way of them is a large amount of enemies. Luckily, the group can easily handle some baddies. Surely nothing bad will happen. Nothing at all.

Timothy woke up again to Amara poking him with her steel-toed boots. He winced at the shuffling but complied.

“Get up, handsome.” Amara instructed, Tim felt himself cringe at the word. The word ‘Handsome’ really had taken on a whole new meaning…

“Yes ma’am.” Tim grumbled as he sat up, blinking the blurry drowsiness out of his eyes. He felt sore, just like how he usually did in the mornings.

The surgery had its side effects. Full body physical alterations were dangerous, and had never been done before, especially to this extent. When he woke up in the mornings his eyes had always stung, presumably from the color alteration from his… whatever colored eyes he previously had to the heterochromatic shades he had now. His torso and arms were always sore after a good night's sleep as well, and Tim didn’t know why. At first he had assumed it was because of constant moving, but once he started doing low-key work for Jack it became real that sore limbs were just his life now. But aside from all those small things he could ignore, what hurt worse was his throat. It didn’t feel sore, it  _ hurt.  _ It hurt like there was a thick chunk of metal lodged just above his vocal chords, a sharp sting that settled during the days, but was always at it’s worse in the mornings. He never mentioned it to anyone but himself. He had been taught not to. Showing pain meant you were weak, and Handsome Jack isn’t weak.

Tim jolted back to reality once Amara kicked a bullet shell across the floor to hit his leg. He complied and got up, strapping a gun and a grenade to his belt and flipping up his hood for the journey.

Tim was ushered out, he saw Zane, Flak, and Moze standing by the door, waiting for him and Amara. The double caught up to him and Zane smiled and slapped Tim’s back to greet him. It hurt slightly, but the double ignored it.

“What took ya so long? We were waitin’ forever!” Zane complained, hooking an arm around Tim’s shoulders and squeezing. The double smiled timidly, honestly too tired to be tossed around, no matter how friendly it was.

“Don’t shake me too hard, you might break me!” Timothy joked, Zane met his joke with laughter.

“Timothy had trouble sleeping last night.” Flak answered for him.

“Yeah uh… Yeah I guess I did.” Tim agreed. Flak nodded at that. “Okay so… what’s going on? I didn’t catch the plan.”

“Yeah no shit,  _ somebody  _ wandered off.” Moze butt in, giving Zane a glare.

“Now look, I wouldn’t have found this  _ delight _ if I never wandered off in the first place!” Zane asserted, pointing at Tim’s face. Moze chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Is anyone gonna answer my question or…” Tim mumbled, looking from Zane to Moze timidly. 

Amara decided to speak up, her voice rang out in confident authority. “We’re going to get closer to Jack’s tower. We need to get inside and contact Moxxi from there.” She stalked towards the group, keeping her eyes on Tim. “I’ve been told that  _ you  _ can get us inside.” 

“Oh uh..” Tim frowned. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. Tim had been able to get inside, he just needed an entry point. With his winning hand, he could get anywhere, he had level 10 clearance, he could go anywhere but outside the space station. Why had Tim never gone up to the tower? He had no one to contact, nowhere to go, and no reason to go up there. Well, he had a reason. He could have gotten the codes to let him leave. A little part of himself knew that fact, but the bigger part ignored it. 

The truth is that he knew he would die here. He didn’t see the point in trying to run, Tim was much better at hiding.

“Then that’s why you’re coming with us. We’re going to that tower, finishing this job, then leaving to go get others. That’s how this works.” Amara looked at the other vault hunters. “We don’t have time for  _ friendship bracelets. _ ” With that, Amara turned and started walking down the hallway, signaling the others to follow.

“And I thought  _ my _ drill sergeant was bad.” Moze whispered to Zane, who responded with a badly hidden snicker.

-

The journey was familiar,  _ too  _ familiar. It made Tim uncomfortable. He thought he had left these treks to Jack’s tower behind a long time ago. Back then he was scared, small, and helpless. Nothing but a cog in the machine force to play a big role in the metaphorical machinery. That’s when Jack would scold him for small things like not keeping his back straight, his hair not being fixed in the perfect position, and especially for looking too ‘scared’. 

Because of these thoughts and memories, he stayed silent for most of the trip, only listening to bits and pieces of dialogue, mostly between Zane and Moze. Tim listened to the faint buzzing of casino neon signs, and the distant sounds of shouts and gunshots that grew closer. The sound put him slightly on edge, but he knew at least one of the vault hunters would protect him, and it certainly wasn’t like he couldn’t protect himself.

Tim looked up as a nudge from Zane got his attention. There he was. The face of Jack. Overseeing the entire casino. It sent a cold shiver down his spine, just the sight of the man, even if it was just his head. 

“That was yer boss, eh?” Zane inquired.

“Yep. That’s him.” Tim affirmed, his voice weaker than intended.

“Looks like a jackass. Good job on not being a dick like him.” Zane vouched, nudging Tim with his shoulder.

Tim smiled at the statement, it felt validating, especially from Zane.

“Alright, let’s get to work. I can here a fight that needs winning.” Amara snarled, balling her hands into fists. The others smiled at the notion of a fight. 

“Let’s get going then!” Moze hooted. The company went at a quicker pace towards the tower, where more enemies stood. Amara was right, it was a fight that needed winning. 

They all sprung into action once they got close enough, Amara first, and Timothy last of the group. 

It was chaos just as Tim remembered, but this time with gravity he could handle, and less threat of suffocation. Amara went straight into the frenzy, siren markings glowing bright blue as she fought her way through with a fist and a handgun. Moze was behind her, blasting enemies into mush with ease. Zane was just ahead of Tim, taking cover behind his shield as he unloaded ammo into oncomers. Timothy took cover in the frenzy of everything, blasting holes into anyone that got past the party, or tried to surprise them.

When he was on the moon, that had been his tactic. Stay behind and take care of things from afar, the others were better at the job than him. If he was ever alone, his digistructs would move ahead of him. This was how he worked. 

Nearly half the attackers were gone, more had been hiding than predicted, but of course the vault hunters could handle it. Blood was everywhere, bodies littered on the once pristine black flooring of the casino. Everything was going perfectly. The group was clearing everything out with absolute ease. Tim almost felt calm in the situation, like he could handle anything. Zane looked back at Tim and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Then, the butt of a gun slammed against the back of Tim’s head.

Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah this one was a little short, I gotta admit. I'm quickly realizing that maybe going into this fic without a plan was a bad idea, but it's fine. I'll figure it out. I'm good at improvising.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this shorter chapter! It's got a slight cliffhanger, I won't torture you too long with the lack of an update.
> 
> My tumblr is charybdis-nerdrage, I still can't get links to work.


	7. Looming Towers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy wakes up to an argument between Zane and Amara. What happened?
> 
> -
> 
> Also, Timothy has a flash back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops this one is short

Okay, if Tim was really being honest, this was not the strangest situation he’d been in over the years. According to Jack, he was very good at being expendable (whatever that means), so it made sense that someone would go for him first in a fight. The fight was probably over, whoever had taken him was probably picking over his body for extra cash and loot. 

But once Tim woke up, he learned the reality was much more disappointing and much less exciting then the prospect of a boring death.

-

Tim’s eyes slid open slowly, he could feel he was propped up against a cold familiar wall. Everything around him was blurry, and his ears were ringing. As Tim examined his surroundings, he could see more the clearer his vision got. Zane was arguing with Amara near him, which he could now here faint details of now that the ringing in his ears died down.

“What do you mean?! Zane had yelled.

“I only hit him accidentally!” Amara argued back, confidently puffing out her chest to intimidate the slightly shorter man. It didn’t work on Zane.

“Accidentally?! That fact that ya hit him  _ at all _ is the problem!” Zane scolded, Amara only rolled her eyes in response.

“You two. Quit your childish antics.” Flak droned from nearby. Timothy flinched and looked to the side. Flak had been 5 feet away from him, and Tim hadn’t even noticed. “He is awake. He deserves an explanation.” Zane nodded solemnly in agreement, while Amara merely crossed her arms over her chest and turned away with a scoff.

Zane paid her no mind and walked to Tim. “You doin’ alright?” He asked.

“Nope. Definitely been better.” Timothy croaked, his voice dry, and damaged.

“Eh, don’t blame ya.” Zane shrugged. “Need to know what happened? You got hit pretty hard.” 

“Yes please.” Tim nodded.

“Alright alright, it’s honestly not that exciting.” Zane began, helping Timothy up with a hand and a heave. “Basically, someone hit ya. Really hard across the back of your head. I noticed, and I told Amara. She and I killed the guy, and she… ‘accidentally’... hit you even harder in the face.” Tim nodded again.

“How hard?” Tim asked, hesitantly reaching a hand up to touch his mask.

“Enough to chip off a good chunk of the mask.” Zane confirmed. Sure enough, most of the right jawline of the mask was chipped off, revealing his rubbery brand underneath. Tim frowned at the feeling. “Yeah, uhm, not gonna ask.” 

“Thanks.” Tim mumbled.

The group went quiet, Amara was the most silent of all of them. Eventually they had to leave again. Flak had told Tim they had to stop and wait for Tim to wake up and regain his senses before they could travel to the tower entrance. Timothy appreciated the patience. He knew how long he could pass out. He had done it a lot over the years working this awful job. The entrance was exactly like Tim had remembered it, big, obnoxious, and a little bit tacky. Just like Jack. Amara shoved him towards the scanner, and Tim did as was assumed. He pressed his synthetic hand against the scanner next to the door.

The scanner blinked that familiar shade of green, and the elevator doors opened. Him and the vault hunters loaded onto it and started riding up.

-

7 years was a long time. Too long.

If he knew what would happen, he wouldn’t have agreed to stay at the Handsome Jackpot in the first place. But he could remember Jack’s convincing arguments. He remembered going up to that office like it was yesterday, his muscles sore from the ungodly hours of fetch quests and unnecessary murder.

“Jack, I’m tired! Like, all the time!” He had complained.

“Oh please, pumpkin. That was nothing I couldn’t handle.” Jack rolled his eyes and placed his feet confidently on that pristine black polished desk.

“Please sir!” 

“Ugh, fine. Okay. I got an idea for you.” Jack’s face twisted into a smile at whatever had popped into his head.  _ Oh no. _

Timothy’s fate had been sealed. Anytime Jack had that look on his face, he was confident he would get what he wanted. If he didn’t, it would get violent. Jack  _ hated  _ being wrong. He hated being proved wrong, especially when he was extremely confident that he was the one that was right. If Jack had pulled that face, Tim was about to agree out of anything he said, because he was a coward.

“Now please, Timmy, have I got the  _ best  _ vacation option for you.” Jack got up from his desk and crept to the other side, hopping up onto the surface so he could tower over Tim, and get closer. “I’ve got this casino. It’s in space. You like space, Timtams?” 

Tim nodded slightly. “Yes sir.” 

“Good, good, happy to hear it. So it’s this place called the Handsome Jackpot, been working on it for years. Completely my original idea. Nobody helped. Just me, your good friend Jack.” 

“Sir I wasn’t-” 

“Anyway~” Jack interrupted, “I need some doppelgangers over there, I need you to basically sign babies and kiss ass the entire time. That’s like, way better than whatever the hell you’ve been doing.” 

“I guess,” Tim shrugged.

“Well, if you’ve been  _ so tired,  _ as you say, then I don’t see any reason why you would say no.” 

Then Tim had agreed. Jack didn’t make the vacation fun. He made it hell. There were so many rules, maybe more than there were back up on Helios in that windowless apartment. 

Not to mention the hand. That had hurt the most by far. 

Jack hadn’t even told him what was happening, he must have slipped something into his drink.

He had been in surgery for hours.

No one was telling him what was going on.

No one told him what was going on, at least until he was high enough on pain killers to not be paying attention. 

He was only given a summary of what the hand was for when he was actually on the ship ride to the casino.

He had been left completely in the dark.

After the years, nothing had changed. He was still in the dark. He was still in the same place. 

Where was he gonna go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear that was a disappointing cliff-hanger. I did y'all dirty I gotta be honest. I'm super sorry about that. I hope at least an update makes up for it? This fic should be done soon, I have plans for more things after. Maybe this can be the start of my first series?
> 
> My tumblr is @charybdis-nerdrage, if you're curious.


	8. Timothy Lawrence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The job is just about finished, but has Timothy's new friendships paid off? Is he finally free?

Jack’s office was just as he had remembered, but darker. It had gotten cold because of the lack of that humongous presence that previously inhabited it. Tim was woken from his strange nostalgic trance when Zane shook the double’s shoulder slightly.

“You alright, timmy?” Zane asked. Tim nodded and looked at Zane, a worried look on his face. “Ah I get it, is the office weird? It does feel a bit weird, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It just feels really cold and empty now, I can’t stop remembering just coming up here to get yelled at.” Tim explained, looking down at the floor as the group neared the center of the large room. “It just feels so uncomfortably similar.”

Tim looked up at the huge expanse of a window behind Jack’s old desk. The gorgeous starry space beyond was so familiar it stopped being beautiful, but he understood why Zane or the others would gawk.

“I guess this place just started to feel like a prison after a while.” Tim finished. Zane nodded and patted his back reassuringly.

“Well, not for long. We’re here, we can get you your codes, you can get us our casino, then we can all go our separate ways.” Zane affirmed their plan.

“Yes, then I can give you one of the ships in the private hangars.” Flak added, joining their conversation. “I suggest going to Promethea, I know a friend there that can get you a new hand.”

“I don’t know where I’d be without you guys.” Tim admitted, smiling thankfully at Flak.

“Dead, probably.” Zane admitted with a shrug.

“Thank you all for not shooting me on sight. Well, not sucessfully. I never thought I’d actually end up being free…” Tim said.

Amara interrupted the conversation by hitting the console on the desk, so she could get Tim’s attention. Tim got the gist and walked to the desk, ready to fulfill his side of the deal.

It wasn’t hard, he already knew most of Jack’s passwords, and he had the winning hand. He helped them all get in, and the casino was finally theirs. Zane was the only one cheering, and Flak called Moxxi to let her know the job was done. While the others wandered, Tim sat down at the desk and searched.

He searched for those codes. He needed to get out.

They didn’t seem to be anywhere obvious, which made sense. Jack was a paranoid man, he knew that his doppelgangers could get into his computer if they were good ones. 

The codes ended up being encrypted, and thanks to Tim’s small skill in coding, he was able to get them open so he could delete them. When they were gone, a wave of relief hit Tim. It was done. It was all finally done.

He ended up doing one last thing before he gave up the computer. He deleted the Handsome Jack AI that was watching over the casino. Across the casino, holograms flickered out. Everything Jack had was gone, and the rest could be taken away. Finally, Jack was gone from his life, after years of torment and abuse.

It was over.

-

The week had gone by like a breeze. Moxxi came over and took over the entire casino in about 4 days. Not long after, anything remotely Jack-themed was shot into the sun. Tim was given his ship, as promised, and directions to Promethea. He needed to find Atlas, apparently the ceo owed the vault hunters a favor. Tim planned on never speaking to another corporate anything ever again, but maybe he could push that vow aside for a new hand and a new life.

The day eventually came, and Tim stood in front of his new ship with a large bag over his shoulder of everything he owned. No one had come to wish him goodbye just yet, so Tim assumed he could just leave. That was until he heard footsteps running across the expansive hangar. It was Zane and Flak, here to wish him goodbye. Amara and Moze were already gone.

“Tim! You didn’t think we wouldn’t say goodbye, did you?” Zane laughed. Tim shrugged.

“I won’t admit what I thought,” Tim asserted.

“Whatever, idiot.” Zane chuckled and held his arms out for a hug. Tim hugged him, it would have been awkward if he didn’t.

“We came to wish you luck,” Flak droned. “We did not want you to leave alone without a goodbye.”

“Goodbye, then.” Tim said. The other two nodded.

“Bye, try not to get killed out there. A lot of people want you dead.” Zane mentioned.

“Yeah, I assumed.” Tim fretted. He knew a lot of people wanted him dead. He needed to figure out how he was supposed to hide his face.

“Try and echo us, okay?” Zane said, stepping forward and pulling something out of his pocket. “Listen, I saw your echo, and it looks like shit. It needs an upgrade,” Zane began, pressing a brand-new echo into Tim’s hands. 

The echo was a dark maroon color, and the screen was a light blue. It was a massive improvement to Tim’s old, stolen model. 

“The old cassettes should work with it too, if you got enough of those. Plus this one already has our contacts in it.” Zane explained. Tim was at a loss for words.

“Uh.. wow. Thank you.” Tim sputtered.

“If you’re gonna be out in space, you need better communication.” Flak added. “This is just so you do not die out there.”

“Thank you guys so much, I really won’t forget it.” 

“Bye Tim, take care of yourself.” Zane finished. And then the two left him. It was just Timothy and his ship now, a brand new maroon echo clutched in his hands. 

The double opened the ship door and stepped up into it. The ship itself was tiny, but just perfect for him. There was a large control board and a counter in the front before a large tinted window overlooking the outside. The chair behind the controls was yellow and white, and it looked as comfortable as it could get. There was a tiny bathroom compartment in the corner, and a cot folded against the wall. The back wall of the ship was filled with drawers and compartments, and the more Tim looked through them the more he found. Most of them were empty, but some of them had food and rations that Tim could eat on his way to Promethea. 

He sat down in the captain’s chair, and looked out the window, digging in his pocket for a spare echo cassette. He found one, put it in with a click, and pressed record.

“Dear Diary,” Timothy began. “The last few weeks have been a journey. I feel like I’m finally me again, I’m not chained down to the same place again. Suddenly, Jack doesn’t matter. None of what happened back then matters. That was 7 years ago. Sure, I might struggle with it in the future, but now I know I’m not him. I will never be him.

I’m me, and I know this because of the people I have met and the friends I have made in such a short amount of time. Jack’s friends would never protect him, they would never go out of their way to save him from danger. But I know my friends will, no matter how long I’ve known them. 

I’m going to Promethea, Flak says that Atlas can help me start my new life out there. And I’ve heard the skies are beautiful there.

I am Timothy Lawrence. That’s it. I don’t need to be anything else.”

He finished the shortest entry, stopping the recording and popping the cassette out of the brand new echo. He labeled it with a pen.

_ Freedom - Day 1. _

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's over. To be honest, I kinda hated writing this fic towards the end. But I have a ton of ideas for shorter stories about what Tim gets up to after this. Maybe I'll write them and post them. I might even do some Rhysothy stuff with this timeline? I'm still brainstorming, but I'd love to hear any ideas.
> 
> My tumblr is @charybdis-nerdrage


End file.
